Are We the Bad Guys?
by Obiwanlivesforever
Summary: Back when it all started, everything was clear. They were the bad guys. They were the ones who made everything difficult ... What was so different now? A look at the motivations and growth of the Brotherhood, through the eyes of Lance. PROBABLY DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

**Hello all!**

**This is my first X-Men: Evolution story and it will have around 5-7 chapters. The inspiration for it came from my obsession with Evo's take on the Brotherhood. It's the first adaptation of X-Men I've watched/read where characters like Avalanche and Toad had depth behind them instead of being mindless thugs. I also like how Evo's Brotherhood is not made up of supervillains so much as confused, mislead teenagers. This fic will explore their motivations, desires, and growth throughout the series, through the eyes of Lance. (I may write another fic later, a series of one-shots, which will place more emphasis on the other members of the Brotherhood.) There will be Lancitty. This is the prologue and the bulk takes place at the end of Season 1, Episode 2 – The X-Impulse – after Lance has destroyed part of the school and Kitty has left with the X-Men. The little blurb at the beginning is Lance looking back at this from an unspecified point in the series, probably sometime in season 4. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Oh, and I don't own X-Men: Evolution. It belongs to Marvel Entertainment, Inc. **

~~o~~

_Are we the bad guys?_

Back when it all started, everything was clear. _They_ were the 'bad guys'. _They _were the ones who made everything difficult. _They _were the ones who made it hard for people like me to live our lives. Me? I was in it for myself. Me against the world, a reckless bad boy in a grudge match with the authorities, or something like that. It fit so well I'd never thought to question _why. _

What was so different now? Was it all because of her_? _It had to be ... because it certainly couldn't have been me, Lance Alvers, school bully and rebel, that had changed.

~~o~~

Backing away from my mistakes was easy. It happened so often that I pretty much _lived _it. The pattern had been pounded into my head for as long as I could remember: stay in a foster home, put up with their stupid rules, trick myself into believing they actually cared, all for a few months until I inevitably blew it and the whole illusion of acceptance came crashing down. As a kid I used to ignore the looks on their faces every time my powers got out of hand, pretending that just because couldn't see the fear and mistrust, they didn't exist. After all, what did a collapsed ceiling or a caved-in wall mean when we were supposed to be a family? Once I turned ten, though, I couldn't fool myself anymore. I found it was a lot easier just to move on without looking back. No more having to deal with the whispering and rumours, the punishments and scolding. The pain. I'd just wipe the dust off my pants and be out of there by the next morning.

So it should have been second nature to disappear that evening when I reduced the whole west wing of my high school to rubble. If I'd had any sense at all I would have melted back into the bushes and snuck off to the next town. As it was, I stood there on the hilltop gawking, not believing what my own two hands had done.

I didn't understand it then, but it wasn't _leaving_ that was hard – after all, I'd done it before without a second thought. It was leaving with the knowledge of what I was leaving behind – something I'd never had before and, at the rate this was going, would never have again.

When it finally struck me that the old man and that red-headed chick would probably have every cop in the city looking for me at this point, I decided to scram. There was no use staying, I concluded bitterly. Now that Kitty had been dragged along with those X-Saints she'd never even think to look back at me again; _they'd _made sure of that. As I stepped backwards towards the cover of the bushes, a snide, mocking voice echoed my thoughts.

"I'd say you've blown your chances at this school, haven't you?"

_Oh great, just what I need. A lecture._

I whipped around to see a woman's erect figure silhouetted against the sunset. Everything from the crispness of her businesslike outfit to the steely glare of those rectangular glasses told me this was someone I definitely wanted to avoid at the moment.

"And you are...?" I snapped.

"Your new advisor," the woman replied, her sneering voice undaunted. "I've made an opening for you at Bayville High. I have much to teach you, my young Avalanche."

I'd been on the verge of pushing past her and storming off with a slight tremor. But if the fact that this woman seemed prepared to accept me at a school I'd never heard of _and _somehow knew about my powers wasn't startling enough, then the way she caused some sort of ripple to glide down her body, replacing the dowdy headmistress with a fiery-haired, turquoise-skinned and considerably more attractive lady, definitely was. Taken aback, I stopped dead in my tracks.

"All right, you've got my attention," I admitted. "So what do you want from me?"

The woman's blue lips twisted into an almost pitying smirk. "I think the question you should be asking, my dear boy, is what do _you _want from _me?"_

_This lady's out of her mind. _"Look, you don't have a clue what I want," I retorted, curiosity boiling into irritation. "I've got enough to deal with right now. Just get lost."

To my surprise and annoyance, she simply slipped out of the way and let me pass, the same infuriating smugness illuminating her face. Her cunningly sweet voice floated back to me as I tramped away.

"Of course. Go. Leave. Run off to the next town of ignorant fools and see if you'll find acceptance there. Hope that the next time you bring down a building they'll be just as ... _forgiving _as they are now. Perhaps you'll even find another young woman who knows what you're going through, and perhaps this time she'll choose you over a self-righteous old fool who has no idea what you suffer through... " She let that tantalizing thought hang in the air, savouring the obvious torment on my face, before snatching it back: "...but I rather doubt it."

Against all my better judgement I turned back. Something that usually lay, barely dormant, inside of me – the same mounting intensity that had spewed forth into my last earthquake – was now begging for her to continue.

"You and I are differentfrom normal people, Avalanche. You've always known this – I believe your phrasing of it was 'fate dealt us winning cards'? – but never acted upon it. Vandalizing lockers, stealing exam answers ... do you really think this is the most you can get out of your powers? I can teach you to do far more ... and for far greater reasons." She paused briefly, then: "The world isn't going to give you any more chances, Lance Alvers. Charles Xavier certainly didn't. So why not take mine?"

I considered her offer. It was true that I was fighting a losing battle. At seventeen years old, with shaggy brown hair dangling to my shoulders and hygiene the least of my concerns, I'd lost the 'cuteness' factor that helped keep me with foster parents a kid. Another year and orphanages would close their doors, too – not like I cared much for them anyways, but they were preferable to the streets. Add to that the fact that I'd run away from nearly every foster home I'd had – and escaped what could have amounted to jail time in the same way – and my record was pretty grim.

But tempting as those offers were, they paled in comparison to what was really keeping me there. The _real _reason I'd let myself be caught up in her silky words. She was opening up a door that the Xavier freaks had slammed in my face – the opportunity to find others like me. After all, the anticipation of test answers hadn't been responsible for the rush of thrill and excitement I'd felt as Kitty flowed through the office door. It was the fact that, for a few glowing moments, I'd shared something with the only other person in the world who understood what I was going through. We'd been united in an act of defiance against the system that thought they could put us down. And if going with this woman meant there would be a chance I'd be able to experience that again ... that there'd be the smallest of chances I'd see Kitty...

"I'm in."


	2. Not Even a Question

**A/N: A heartfelt apology to everyone who's been waiting for this story to update for so many months! I was completely out of ideas (I'm pretty much making all this up as I go along) and this chapter was pretty hard to write as there's not much action. And I can't stand most of season 1, during which this chapter takes place, but I had to rewatch some episodes from it to figure out the dialogue. Not to mention that I'm the world's biggest procrastinator. :P I promise I will be better with this story in the future, and I hope you enjoy chapter 1! (Last chapter was the prologue.) **

**A few things to mention before this gets going:**

**Please ignore the last A/N which said this would have 5-7 chapters; I honestly don't know how long it will be; probably more like 10 chapters. And this chapter's title might seem confusing, but once more of the chapter titles are revealed it'll all make sense, as they're a series that has to do with the question in the title of the story. **

**I'm not really comfortable with writing swears, so if the language in this story seems a little mild for the Brotherhood, that's why. I know they obviously don't swear in Evo, but they do in a lot of Fanfictions for realism. Just not mine. **

**Finally, thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, and favourited/added to alerts. You all made my day! (More like my year!) :) And a special shout-out to Avatard12, who prompted me to get this story rolling again.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution. If I did, season 1 would be completely different, certain episodes (*glares pointedly at Middleverse and Walk on the Wild Side*) would not exist, Iceman would be the sixth member of the main team instead of Spyke, there would be a season 5, and the Brotherhood and New Mutants would have way more focus. Evolution belongs to Marvel. **

**This chapter covers events immediately following The X-Impulse (season 1, episode 2) right up to the end of Speed and Spyke (season 1, episode 5).**

~~o~~

I'd said lots of things to myself since I followed Mystique away from the rubble of my old life, but the one that kept coming back to beat me up was: _what else did you expect?_

Well, really? An instant solution to all my problems? People who were going through the same things I was and could sympathize with me? A freaking _mansion _like the Xavier kids? Did I honestly think some freakish blue woman I met on the outskirts of town was going to clap her hands and completely turn my life around? Did I think she'd be able to conjure up Kitty in a wave of a magic wand?

In all honesty, yes. I thought I'd been shunted into enough orphanages, suffered through enough unsteady relationships with distant foster parents, and been on the receiving end of enough judgmental stares to realize that life isn't a fairytale, but apparently I was wrong. Wrong about life, wrong about myself, wrong about everything. And it all came back to _her. _Kitty, with her bubbling optimism and innocent naivety and faith in people who the rest of the world saw as lost causes. Kitty, who when faced the wall that had loomed over me all my life found a door, opened it wide, and beckoned for me to follow her through. Kitty, snatched away like everything else I'd ever cared about.

And I wasn't going to find her here. No matter how much I'd expected to.

~~o~~

Right from the start, it was clear that whatever Mystique was running, she'd only gotten second rate. Whatever had inspired all those enticing promises she'd woven must have been pretty bruised by what we turned out to be. In fact, if she'd have come up to me back at the school and shown me the rabble of misfits she'd chosen to rival Xavier's perfect heroes, I'd have turned myself over to the police before joining her 'brotherhood.'

The sole person she'd managed to recruit before I showed up was nearly enough to make me change my mind about the whole thing. I used to think that pop quizzes, haircuts, and people asking questions about my many foster parents were the most annoying things in the world. Meeting Todd Tolansky changed that.

No sooner had Mystique and I stepped into the dimly lit foyer of a dilapidated boarding house so old it shouldn't even have been standing anymore, than a greenish blur came half-bounding, half-tumbling down the rickety staircase. It took me a second to realize this was a scrawny kid of about fourteen, with a mop of dull brown hair and such a sickly skin tone I wondered if he spent his days hiding from the sunlight. He was wearing the most idiotic costume I'd ever seen, yet with an air of pride that seemed strange on his scraggly stature. My foremost thought was worry that Mystique was going to force me into something equally dorky-looking.

"Lance Alvers, this is Todd Tolansky, your fellow recruit." Mystique wasted no time with her introduction. "Alvers, your room is upstairs, first door on the right. As you can see, the place is quite old, so _do _try not to bring it down." She shot me a smirk before turning sharply on her heel and striding away.

I gave a non-committal shrug of greeting to Todd.

"So you're the new guy, huh?" he burst out. "Cool. So, what's your power? What'd she mean, 'don't bring the house down?' What's your codename gonna be? We all get codenames. I'm the Toad. Isn't that awesome? 'Cause, see, I can jump really high; how high can you jump, huh? And I've got this really super long – yo, where you going? Hey, come back, don't you want to-"

"No." I was already halfway up the stairs.

"But c'mon, you're the first new guy in – actually, you're the _only _new-"

"_No._"

Evidently, slamming the door wasn't enough to drive the point across that I wasn't in the mood for company. I soon found that a moment to myself was a very rare occurrence in the Brotherhood boarding house. Toad kept barging into my bedroom, trying to think up a cleverer codename for me (as if _his _was anything to brag about), begging me to show off my powers, or giving a demonstration of his own abilities. If flinging himself off the walls or bouncing around on the furniture wasn't enough to drive me over the edge, then his 'secondary' mutation, a seemingly endless slimy tongue with which he caught – and actually _ate – _flies, definitely was. His sense of personal hygiene made even me seem clean and pretty much gave away that he'd spent a big portion of his life on the streets. But it was his asking if I'd ever had a girlfriend which finally made me snap, and no amount of enraged yelling from Mystique could make me regret toppling the dresser on top of him.

The second 'gifted recruit' turned out to be some Goth chick who would answer to nothing else but 'Rogue.' Her mutation – as Toad found out the hard way – apparently drained you of your powers, memories, and consciousness with a single touch, leaving you out cold for around fifteen minutes. Grateful to have some peace from Toad's incessant blabbering, I retreated to my room and made a mental note to never get on Rogue's bad side. This didn't prove too hard, as she seemed as unwilling to socialize as I usually was, either sulking alone or conspiring with Mystique. In fact, the small amount of time our elusive leader actually spent at the boarding house seemed to be devoted entirely to Rogue. I couldn't see what was so special about her, but judging from the amount of time Mystique had been gone trying to recruit her, and the fierce triumph her drained face betrayed upon her return, the new girl was worth more than the rest of us put together. They'd consort in a corner or a spare room, murmuring about power control and Xavier's kids and lots of stuff I couldn't hear and didn't really care to.

The new girl wasn't anything like _she _had been. No unspoken sense of understanding passed between us like it had between Kitty and I. No amount of similarities could convince us to spill out our feelings to each other. Our relationship didn't extend beyond casual nods of greeting in the morning or an occasional comment on some unimportant topic. We kept out of each other's way; that was all.

A few days later, Mystique brought home even more proof I wasn't going to find anyone like _her _on this team. This 'proof' was named Fred, codenamed Blob, and could be best described as a blubbery mound of fat, muscle, and badly suppressed rage. The most I could understand was that something had happened after school between him, Rogue, and the redheaded X-lady, Jean Grey, which resulted in him being too angry to string two words together whenever anyone brought either of them up. Doing just that was entertaining for a while, until I got a black eye and learned that whatever Blob lacked in brains, he made up for in raw strength. The only good thing I could say about him was that he and Toad caught on like glue and occupied most of their time pestering each other rather than me.

So was the rest of Mystique's freak show as irritating as ever? Yeah. Could they get any worse? Well, what else could I expect?

~~o~~

It was Friday evening of an increasingly exasperating week, and my mind reflected the quaking sidewalk as I trudged from Bayville High back to the boarding house. A great deal of small but frustrating incidents had been adding to my mental earthquake all day. The latest of them – a two-hour afterschool detention – had driven me to such a state that I was actually relishing the prospect of a weekend of being annoyed by only Toad and Blob.

Scowling at the shadowed street, I thrust my crumpled Shakespeare essay into a nearby trash can, spirits lifting marginally as the bright red 'D' disappeared from view. _What a stupid waste of time that was. _I certainly didn't give a darn about Macbeth's start of darkness or what made a man become a monster or any of that garbage. A detention for slacking off in chemistry wouldn't stop people gawking at me like idiots if I ever used my powers in public. No blasted math grade could ever make Kitty look at me again, let alone in the way she'd done that night two weeks ago...

_I could hear the sound of Kitty's breathing, first tremulous and hesitant, then rapid, excited, as she phased through the wall. An involuntary tingle swept through my body. There was one side of me – the hardened realism which had rejected my foster parents' half-hearted pleas for forgiveness, which guided my path away from each home that had shunned me – that reminded me I was only here to steal test answers. But the other side, the raw emotion which abandoned all reason and tumbled head-over-heels into passion, knew that this exhilaration had nothing to do with pleasing my thug cohorts and everything to do with the radiant-faced girl now flinging open the door to the office. _

"_Did you see me? Did you?" Her chocolate-brown ponytail bounced up and down as she danced around in jubilation. My spirits mirrored her carefree motions. Had I ever felt this light before?_

"_Yeah. Wow, Kitty! How did it feel?"_

"_Oh, it was – like, totally unbelievable!"_

_No sooner had I felt her arms around me then I knew I was lost. I had lifted my feet from the edge of the rock-hard cliff and plunged into something entirely new. After I'd sold the cheat sheets and given my partners-in-crime their fair share of the money, I would be free to start afresh. No more goon 'friends,' no more orphanages, no more darn foster parents. Whatever happened, there was no going back now. Too much had changed for that..._

_Darn it, Alvers, _I muttered to myself, _quit thinking like that. Hoping isn't going to make it happen again. _

It was true; I'd found that out for myself two days ago at lunch break. By some mocking twist of fate, we'd been shunted into the same high school as Xavier's kids, and Scott Summers, the straight-laced 'golden boy' of the team, had freaked when I'd approached Kitty in the cafeteria. The way the guy acted, you'd think I'd tried to _attack _her – though I wouldn't have hesitated to do so to _him _if Principal Darkholme hadn't walked in. Despite the fact that our stern headmistress was secretly Mystique in disguise, she'd strictly advised us against fighting the X-Men until we were 'ready', whatever that meant, and if she'd seen us going at it in front of everyone...? I could only imagine how she'd have cracked if I'd actually managed to talk with Kitty. I grimaced at the thought of how snidely Mystique would respond if she could read these thoughts. _But, my dear_ _Avalanche, what could you possibly see in one of Xavier's recruits? You don't think she could _still _have feelings for you, do you? _

I was nearly back at the boarding house before I realized how violently the street was shaking.

Slamming the door to announce my presence, I fetched a soda from the kitchen, vaguely wondering when Toad and Blob were going to burst in and taunt me about next week's detention (which, amazingly enough, they'd gotten themselves into as well.) It wasn't until I'd nearly reached my chair in front of the boarding house's tiny TV set that I realized I wasn't the only one who'd just gotten home.

"And ... who are you supposed to be?" I demanded.

Well, obviously I realized that the white-haired teenage boy in front of me was a new recruit. I wasn't _that _dim, no matter what my teachers seemed to think. What I meant was, I hadn't heard Mystique talk about enlisting anyone new for a while, and while she didn't normally share her plans with us, I would have at least liked a heads-up that I'd have another nuisance to deal with over the weekend.

The new guy's pointed face stretched into a smirk. "Pietro Maximoff."

I had about a split second to wonder if he was sizing me up before he vanished – then appeared to my left, my right, behind me, the other side of the room, the kitchen table, materializing in every corner of the house before he had even finished his sentence.

"That's right, Pietro Maximoff! A.k.a. Quicksilver, a.k.a. the new leader of this team! Got a wicked costume, super speed, and-" he took a dive from the top of the stairs and blew past me into the prime TV-watching chair in a blinding silver blur, "– looks like I just got your seat, dude."

I stared stupidly for a moment, internally cursing my dumbfounded astonishment, before the rage I'd been suppressing all week finally erupted.

"Do you think I care who you are, loser?" I roared. "So you have freaking super speed; do I really look like I care?" I barely noticed the crunch of metal as my fists tightened around the soda can, spewing Pepsi everywhere. Somewhere far back in my mind, an often-ignored voice pleaded with me not to lose control over a chair, but if there ever came a time when I started listening to it, it wasn't going to be now. Not now, when my fury surged ahead of me in a tumultuous wave of quaking floor and groaning walls. "You're not in charge here, _Maximoff, _so I suggest you get your rear out of that seat and back off unless you really want to get a taste of _my _powers!"

"What, you wanna make something of it, earthquake boy?" Pietro sneered as my anger shook the living room once more. A brief ripple of fear flashed across his sharp features as he stumbled, but his insufferable confidence reappeared almost instantaneously as he regained his balance. "Ooh, I'm scared now. Is that the best you've got?"

Abandoning all reason, I lunged at him in a deranged frenzy. I just had time to realize that the blast of wind shooting past my ear was him before my face met the edge of the table he had been standing in front of mere seconds before. Stunned, I staggered around, dimly registering the tangy trickle of blood between my teeth. Pietro's derisive laughter and my own hoarse swearing reached me from somewhere beyond the blinding haze of pain. _What on earth just happened? _It didn't matter. Whatever that Quicksilver jerk had done to provoke me into this mess paled in comparison to just how badly I was going to thrash him now. Finding a foothold on the choppy floor, I pulled myself together and unleashed a violent explosion upon the den.

Between the numb ringing in my ears and the torrent of dust raining from the ceiling, I saw that the living room was an ocean. The dull brown carpet rolled and crested crazily above the shuddering floorboards, flinging its flotsam of chairs, tables and shelves back and forth. Stacks of paper whirled through the air like the feathers of white birds shot in mid-flight. The Pepsi can I'd crumbled earlier ricocheted off a dartboard on the wall, issuing a fountain of sticky bronze liquid. Toad and Blob stared from the foyer, their faces rapt with a mixture of shock and awe. Hurried footsteps signalled someone's purposeful approach. Pietro heard them first and tensed in preparation of a hasty getaway, but I barrelled forwards and knocked him over from behind –

"_What _is going on here!"

_Oh, crud. _Mystique had emerged from one of the spare rooms off the entrance hall, striding rapidly towards us. Her teal face shone with vivid fury. Toad shot me one pitying look before racing upstairs with Blob close behind. His thunderous footfalls punctuated the awkward silence as the leader of the Brotherhood glared down at us.

"Do you realize," she began, her voice a vicious whisper, "how much trouble I've gone through to recruit you? Do you think I stick my neck out for you time and time again to come home and find yourselves bickering like immature children? Is this _really _how you repay me?"

"Speedy here started it," I retorted, too dizzy with rage to care how juvenile my excuse sounded.

"Hey, did not –!"

"Shut your –"

"I don't care which one of you started it!" Mystique's all-too-familiar scream had returned. "It's no wonder you're not ready to take on Xavier's recruits yet; you're not even a team yourselves! And that goes for you boneheads as well!" She raised her voice, addressing Toad and Blob, who must have been eavesdropping from the upstairs railing. "Look at yourselves – sloppy, lazy imbeciles. What kind of Brotherhood do you think you are?"

A harsh, unexpected laugh tore from my throat. _Brotherhood ... _as if being scooped out of the dregs of society and banded together under a cheesy name was going to make us into some sort of family. I felt a stab of anger as, not for the first time, Mystique's words from that first night echoed in my ears: "_Do you really think this is the most you can get out of your powers? I can teach you to do far more ... and for far greater reasons_." Two weeks later and where was I? Sprawled on the floor in a half-demolished living room with a bunch of useless hoods as 'teammates.' I hadn't even gotten to fight the X-Men once. To say nothing of the _real _reason I'd joined up.

Pushing myself to my feet, I opened my mouth to let Mystique know exactly what I thought of her 'Brotherhood,' but the blue lady's tirade hadn't passed yet – if anything, this brief respite had been the eye of the storm.

"Are you aware how close we are to making a great breakthrough in the name of all mutantkind?" she ranted. "Obviously not. I'll inform you, then, though goodness knows if you'll even process it through those thick skulls. Let me make this very clear: while you two idiots have been fighting over the devil knows what, I have been attempting to talk with a highly important ally whose plans affect the very _purpose_ of this Brotherhood."

Maybe my mind still wasn't working clearly, but I could have sworn that at the mention of 'highly important ally,' Pietro stifled a faint gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed his expression. The speedster's formerly arrogant face had dawned with comprehension, anticipation, and ... fear? Well, that settled it. If our leader was in cahoots with anyone who could get that kind of a response out of that stuck-up pansy, I wasn't going to risk my neck crossing her.

Mystique pounced upon Quicksilver's involuntary response. "What's this? A moment of fear? Certainly you feel you're ready to prove yourself to our chief associate. Or does the incomparable Pietro Maximoff have his doubts?" He attempted to meet her disdainful words with a glare, but behind his defiance the flash of apprehension lingered.

That settled it. I could tell the battle was over, and so could Mystique. None of us had anything on her merciless sarcasm. She had regained the aura of sneering superiority that had probably been all of our first impressions of her, and only a moron could fail to see how much she revelled in it.

"Well, then," she declared, ascending a few steps of the staircase so as to fix the two of us with her contemptuous glare, "I believe we will have to make a few changes in how things are run here, so as to remind you who exactly is in charge." Her voice rang with an authoritative tone that I knew was meant for us all – me and Pietro, Toad and Blob in the upstairs hallway, even Rogue, wherever she'd gotten to. "Free weekends are over. Combat practice begins tomorrow at seven-thirty sharp. You will each receive individual training after school in order to further embrace your powers. Most importantly, in order to remind you whom your anger must be focused upon, I will continue to observe the X-Men and inform you when you may strike. You confront them _only _on my command. Is this perfectly clear?"

Mumbles of assent broke out across the landing. The bite in Mystique's orders made it seem like we were all supposed to bark "Sir, yes sir!" like soldiers in some old war movie. But I had a feeling that our cowed submission worked far better for her than any demonstrations of hearty agreement ever would.

Abandoning all intentions of watching TV – had it really just been fifteen minutes ago that I'd slunk home to chill out after a cruddy week? – I stepped aside as Mystique brushed down the staircase and back into the spare room where some mysterious ally sat waiting. Veering towards the kitchen to heat up some leftover pizza before bed, I caught a snatch of the woman's anxious apologies to whoever she was conspiring with.

"I'm extremelysorry for my recruits' behaviour, sir – they're undisciplined fools, the lot of them; they despise all authority"-

The voice that responded was like nothing I'd ever heard – cold, haunting, and sombre as death, like a wall of ice that would never melt.

"Patience, Mystique. I believe their resentment will be a great asset in furthering our cause..."

It was as if a frigid veil had been cast over my skin. Forgetting everything else, I turned and ran upstairs, desperate to purge my memory of the voice of the only man whom I had ever known Mystique to fear.

~~o~~

**So, yeah, Lance is still a huge jerk with major anger issues here. Well, he has to start somewhere low so that there can be character development. There's a thin line between giving someone a sympathetic backstory and tendencies so the readers will care about them, and turning them into a complete Draco with Leather Pants. I hope I've walked that line carefully, and would love to hear from you whether I should make Lance and the other Brotherhood members more/less sympathetic. In fact, I'd be more than happy to chat with any reader about how they feel the story is going. **

**Reviews and constructive criticism greatly appreciated! All flames will be frozen by Iceman. **

**Oh, and I don't own **_**Macbeth **_**or Pepsi. **


	3. No Here's Why

**A/N: All right, I'll admit it. I'm an even worse updater than I'd made myself out to be. I have to say I'm so incredibly sorry for this absurdly long wait. You've all been such wonderful reviewers and I feel awful for letting you down. I realize that I have lost a lot of readers and I don't blame anyone who's decided to give up on this story. And I don't want to mislead you by saying updates will be regular now, because that would be getting your hopes up when there's really no certainty. But I will say that now, since I'm on summer break, updates will hopefully be more frequent. No guarantees, but I will make a sincere effort not to let something like this happen again. **

**And now, on to business! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all those who have continued to read, review, favourite and subscribe, especially Merlin's Ward Jack, without whose help this chapter would not have been possible. The beginning scenario, with Avalanche training in the rain, was inspired by her. I'd also like to give a shout-out to my sister, for proofreading before I publish and putting up with all my excessive fangirling over Evolution and the Brotherhood in particular.**

**Please disregard the last A/N which said this would have about 10 chapters; I really don't know how long it's going to be. This fic was originally just supposed to be a collection of one-shots, but now that it's a full-blown multichap, it'll be significantly longer. Also, be warned: this chapter is probably the longest one yet. **

**There's a bit of very mild swearing in this chapter. I don't think anyone will be offended by it, but I just thought I should warn people. **

**Another thing: I know it's common for people who like the Brotherhood to portray the X-Men in an unfairly negative light, which leads to character derailment. I just want to make it clear that I don't hate the X-Men, nor do I think they are the villains or bad people in any way. This story is from Lance's POV; of course he's going to be biased against the X-Men and think of himself as the 'good guy.' And while I do believe the Brotherhood are sympathetic characters and enjoy portraying them as such, it's not like I think they're anything remotely close to perfect. It's the blend of light and dark within them that I love, and I'm trying to bring that to the forefront here (though not so much in the earlier chapters. Lance is still a major jerk with few redeeming qualities. Character development comes in time :) As will more romance.)**

**Finally, ****this chapter covers events from after Speed and Spyke (season 1, episode 5) to the end of Middleverse (season 1, episode 6.)**** If you can't remember what happens in Middleverse, a lot of this chapter will probably make no sense whatsoever. **

**Hope you enjoy! Oh, and the first thing in italics is a little blurb from the end of last chapter to refresh people's memories.**

~~0~~

"_Well, then," Mystique declared, ascending a few steps of the staircase so as to fix the two of us with her contemptuous glare, "I believe we will have to make a few changes in how things are run here, so as to remind you who exactly is in charge." Her voice rang with an authoritative tone that I knew was meant for us all. "Free weekends are over. Combat practice begins tomorrow at seven-thirty sharp. Is this perfectly clear?"_

As it turned out, it rained next morning.

Faced with the alternative of spending all day in the company of three other messed-up superpowered teens on short fuses, I took a leaf out of Rogue's book and shut myself in my bedroom. Vowing not to leave unless the house caught on fire – and even then, I'd rather take my chances jumping out the window than risk bumping into my teammates on the way downstairs – I barricaded the door with some furniture and flopped back down on the bed. Not a very exciting way to spend a Saturday, but admittedly things could be worse. While it couldn't be good news for the boarding house's worn roof, the incessant downpour just about drowned out the chatter from the downstairs living room. And given the choice between being mildly annoyed by rain or driven to the breaking point by Pietro's boasts about _exactly _how many times he could run around the world in a minute, I'd choose the rain.

It only took so long, though, before crashing on the mattress trying to tune out Toad's muted blabbering got old. Boredly I let my gaze wander the room. _Wonder how much I'd have to suck up to Mystique before she'd let me get a TV in here..._

_Slam!_

"Ready for training?"

It took me several seconds to get over the fact that the slender blue lady had just kicked my door open with enough force to send a chair hurtling into the opposite wall. Several more elapsed before I realized that, despite the sarcasm in her voice, she wasn't joking.

Disbelieving, I dragged my eyes away from the gouged-out chunk of wall plaster to face Mystique's smirk.

"...You're not serious?" I groaned, knowing and dreading the answer. "In this weather?"

"My dear Avalanche," she began silkily, "Do I hear you saying you don't _want _to be ready to fight the X-Men?"

"But I'm already –" I broke off with a scowl at the amused raise of her eyebrows. Why could I tell my protests were only making her enjoy this all the more? Gritting my teeth together, I let the silence conclude my sentence.

"That's what I thought," she stated dismissively, tone switching instantly from sneering to brusque. "I meant what I said about training becoming a regular occurrence, and what I intend to carry through with, I _do._ We will begin in the backyard five minutes from now. In the meantime, however, I have something for you."

The twinge of pleasant curiosity as to why our aloof leader had decided to get me a present was as short-lived as it was uncharacteristic.

"What ... _the heck _... is that?"

"Your new uniform."

"I get that, but ..." It was a struggle to find words describing the unappealing blue-and-gray _thing _in her hands. "..._Why?_"

"Practicality, of course." Mystique shook the stiff fabric out of its folds and draped it across the bed to reveal a monstrosity of a body suit. "Allows for maximum flexibility while remaining insulated, waterproof and protective. These" – she gestured to ridiculously oversized pieces of plastic which looked more like outcropping ledges of rock than shoulder or knee guards – "protect your joints, while these" – thick bands of the same material across the torso – "shield your chest and ribcage. I took the precaution of adding a detachable helmet" – which rather resembled an overturned goldfish bowl – "to defend against any falling debris you may dislodge in your attacks." Whether to assure me of its efficiency or discourage me from acting on the impulse occupying my mind, she added, "It would take a tremendous force to break it, so I'm afraid smashing it is out of the question."

The more I tried to comprehend actually wearing that abomination in public, the more convinced I became that the X-Men would die laughing before I could even use my powers. Not exactly a bad turnout, but a far cry from the one I was hoping for.

"I'm not wearing that."

"I'm afraid you are," Mystique retorted firmly, heading for the door as if this was the end of the matter. _Which it probably is. _"Get yourself changed and outside as soon as possible unless you really think you're willing to test my patience." She paused on the threshold to deliver a final remark, cut with an edge of mischief. "And I can guarantee you that Scott Summers will be wearing something better than jeans and a t-shirt to battle."

_Oh, I'm sure of that, _I grumbled internally as the door swung shut. _Xavier isn't the one who's too broke to make sure his students are wearing something halfway decent. _

~~0~~

It took a while, but eventually Mystique's gibe, coupled with a reluctance to let Pietro see me arriving late to our first training session, drove me downstairs. As I rounded the corner an unexpected thunderclap startled the lights on and off, cloaking my teammates in darkness. The effect was as brief but impressive. For one insane moment, I could almost believe the shadowy group silhouetted before the rain-slicked window was the formidable team Mystique had seemed so sure she'd recruit back when this all began. Almost, but not quite – the lights didn't do anything to mask Toad's smell, after all.

The losers I remembered returned with the electricity. Blob looked particularly awkward, his bulk dwarfing the others in the cramped landing. My self-consciousness lessened further as I noticed Toad was still wearing the same absurd shelled outfit he had when I first arrived. In fact, only Pietro looked halfway decent in a sleek teal uniform, sizing me up with one eyebrow raised. I frowned in response, willing him to comment on my costume just for an excuse to let off some tremors, but Mystique chose that moment to enter the scene.

Making her opinion of us clear with one contemptuous sweeping glare, she strode forwards with purpose and wrenched the door open. Toad yelped and stumbled backwards into Blob as a cascade of large droplets swept over him.

"Well?" our leader asked sharply. "Who's going first?"

Deliberately passing over Toad, she locked gazes with each of us in turn. Her focus lingered a moment longer on Rogue than on anyone else, and I didn't think I imagined her nearly imperceptible frown when the girl did not respond beyond a shrug of the shoulders.

"Anyone?" A spark of impatience. "Certainly one of you has what it takes to volunteer."

Seizing the opportunity to get one over on Pietro, I spoke up. "You're on."

"What?" the speedster whined. "No fair, I was just about to –"

"Boys." Mystique's curt voice sliced through his griping. "I will not put up with squabbling. The next one to complain trains through supper. Avalanche, get outside. Quicksilver, be prepared to go next."

Her slight nod of approval was nothing compared to the ugly look across my rival's face. Glad to see him looking less than fabulous despite his uniform, I shot him a final aggressive smirk before stepping outside.

Struck by a barrage of raindrops across my visor, I was engulfed by the storm. Although the water-resistant uniform fortunately prevented me from becoming a human dishrag within a matter of seconds, it didn't help much against the lash of the wind or the icy grip of early autumn. Also unpleasant was the fact that the outfit's oversized boots sunk into the mud like it was quicksand, resulting in an unpleasant amount of squelching and splattering before I could catch up to Mystique at the center of the backyard.

"Now that you're finally ready," she commented dryly, remarkably unfazed by the weather, "let's get to it. Exercise one: all powers allowed, full contact, ends with either of us on our back for the count of ten. Begin in-"

"Seriously?" I burst out. I'd been bracing myself for a lecture, some sort of long discussion on the finer points of my mutation or an in-depth analysis of fighting moves. To hear that Mystique actually wanted to cut straight to the 'beating each other up' part sent a thrill of much-needed adrenaline roaring through my veins. "No talking, no practice, just me against you? That simple?"

A knowing, catlike smirk crept across her features. "I believe that skill arises from necessity. The further you are pushed, the harder you will push back. And I can assure you; you will come to realize I am not such a 'simple' opponent."

Leaving those words to hang ominously over me, she retreated to the opposite side of the yard and slid into an expert fighting stance. Muscles tensing in anticipation, I shifted my weight between feet, pushing to the back of my mind the nagging voice which reminded me this was my first real fight. Of course, I'd beaten up a decent amount of goons who'd annoyed me in my various schools and community homes, not to mention nearly thrashing Pietro yesterday, but both excitement and a hint of unease accompanied the realization that the outcome of this fight would be the first indication of how well I'd fare against the X-Men.

"Ready, Avalanche? Begin!"

As if struck by the lightning which ruptured the sky, I catapulted myself forwards without hesitation. Barrelling through the blinding torrent with the mud dragging at my every step was no small feat, but I'd still cleared the distance between us before she could even respond. The fleeting thought that this was far too easy struck me an instant before the ground did.

"Oof!" I processed too late that I was sprawled face first in the sparse lawn at the mercy of my opponent, and my punishment came as a sharp blow to the back. Mystique had already taken advantage of my blunder. I thrashed in protest, but she stomped down again, forcing my face into the dank earth. Above the drilling rain and my own spluttering coughs, a repetitive muttering just made itself audible. Her earlier words accompanied a flash of panic through my mind. _Ah crap! Is she counting already?_

Clenching my teeth to ignore the discomfort of having a mouth filled with muck, I forced out my emotion in a violent ripple of soil. An immense rush of satisfaction greeted me as Mystique's weight left my back. Wasting no time, I lurched to find a foothold, spitting out bits of grass and swinging blindly at my foe. Disappointed when nothing met my fist, I squinted through the downpour to make out the lithe shape of her body and charged in its general direction. Several leaping bounds brought me no closer to the target. A spray of droplets battered my helmet like bullets, the noise of their collision with the protective glass exploding in my ears. Desperation rose like a sickening wave inside me as visibility dropped to nonexistence. Where _was _she?

A burst of pain in the small of the back answered that question. Cursing with frustration, I attempted to bring my foot around in a kick, but by the time it was wrenched out of the mud Mystique had responded with double the vigour. Snatching at a blast of anger, I produced a half-hearted wave of tremors to no avail. Clinging to what remained of my concentration proved useless. It was too much. The pounding rain, the early hour, the mounting ache of each injury–

_Thud. _I hit sodden grass for the second time.

"Well, I didn't expect much better from you," came Mystique's slow, deliberate assessment. "Can you see now that I was right when I said these training sessions would be vital? Nothing short of a miracle could whip you miscreants into shape."

Lying in the barren backyard, the knowledge of my failure beating down with the rain, was unbearable. My pride urged me to meet her disapproval with a glare, but just shifting my limbs to stand up was an unwelcome sensation.

Irritation shot through my veins as our leader continued her lament. "It's going to be quite a while before you're ready to take on Xavier's students, I'm afraid." An exaggerated sigh. "Perhaps I should have recruited the girl. Goodness only knows why I chose a parentless little boy instead."

Something inside me sparked back to life – a burning, blackened something, like volcanic rock.

"What was that?"

Condescending glee played upon every aspect of Mystique's expression – the raise of her eyebrows, the merciless smirk, the venomous honey of her words. I was playing right into her game, and she loved it.

"You know perfectly well what I said. I take it you're ready to fight again?"

Muscles screaming in protest of each movement, I rose unsteadily but purposefully to my feet.

"Good," she responded curtly. "This time I want you to focus on your anger, far moreso than you have already been doing. There is so much unused rage stored within you. Let it out! Call to mind the people you hate most in the world. Replace my face with theirs. Do you understand? Then begin!"

~~0~~

The people I hated most in the world, huh?

Whenever I saw the X-kids – which was far more often than I'd have liked, given that we were all lumped together in the same high school – the difference between us was glaringly obvious. Next to a group of five preppy do-gooders, our ragtag bunch looked more like the dregs of society than ever. They were well-dressed; we were slobs with grimy hair and ripped jeans. They had most of the teachers wrapped around their fingers; we spent more time in detention than out of it. They couldn't go down a hallway without someone waving hello; we were loosely drawn together by an unspoken mutual desire not to appear like complete outcasts.

While the majority of the group – save for the obvious exception – was pretty obnoxious, the worst of them all had to be Scott 'Cyclops' Summers. Tall, well-muscled, with slick brown hair and, if half the giggling airheads in my year were to be believed, a 'winning smile,' he was as good as a jock in my mind. Due to those habits I'd already have disliked him on principle, but no, Summers had to go above and beyond in his mission to irritate me. For starters, he was basically the right-hand man to Xavier, the narrow-minded fool who'd apparently deemed me somewhere lower than garbage on the list of possible recruits. And Summers made it perfectly clear that his opinion of us was little better than the old man's. What's more, the only indication that the guy even had powers was the fact that he spent every waking moment with sunglasses on. I'd just assumed that was some sad attempt to get attention until Mystique let me know they were for controlling his mutation, apparently some sort of eye beams. Just great. While I'd gotten nothing but flak all my life for my abilities, he could just slap on a pair of shades and have all the girls whispering over how "mysterious" he was? Just thinking about it made me want to barf. Top it all off with the fact that he'd sabotaged all my further attempts to meet with the one person who'd ever reached out to me – Kitty hadn't given me a sideways glance since last week's cafeteria incident – and I had a pretty solid case for Scott Summers as my least favourite person in the world.

They had it all; we had nothing. More importantly, theyhad _her_.

_They _were the 'bad guys.' So, as unfitting as it seemed, I guess that made us the 'good guys.'

~~0~~

"Aw man," Toad whined amidst the din of lunchtime conversation, "Forgot my lunch _again._"

Rolling my eyes, I stuffed my latest failed history assignment into the depths of my locker and slammed the door. "And this is my problem why?"

"Well, y'know, I was thinking maybe, if you had a little extra–"

"Forget it." I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and turned towards the cafeteria. No way was I wasting my food on someone who'd just go and snitch off five other people anyway. "Go eat some flies."

"Actually, that's not such a bad idea," he shot back. "I think I will."

"Knock yourself out."

To my immense relief, Toad bounded away, grumbling. Not caring whether or not he intended to go through with my suggestion – though I wouldn't put it past him – I picked my way into the crowded lunch room. My eyes wandered through the throng for a sight of Kitty; despite the fact that I knew she'd be outside with the other X-Men, it was a routine I followed on the off chance we might stumble into each other again. As usual, I had no such luck.

Not that I desired company much. Any hour I got to myself was time to treasure. Although Tolanksy and Maximoff were mercifully not in my grade, I had more enough nuisances in senior year between Summers and Duncan Matthews, the king of the jocks, to occupy my day. And while I still clung fiercely to the hope of getting in a word with Kitty, I'd take what I got. Reaching an empty table in the corner, I sat down to what looked like an uninterrupted lunch break.

This added up to about fifteen minutes on my own before a shadow engulfed my little haven. Flicking my eyes up to acknowledge the intruder, I found myself staring up at Blob.

"Hey, uh ... could I sit with you?"

I shrugged and diverted my attention back to my sandwich. Although I preferred the company of thin air to most humans and Blob was no exception to that rule, in all honesty he was probably the least aggravating of my teammates. Sure, he was as dense as his codename implied, but I couldn't exactly boast of my intelligence either, and being scarce with words wasn't a trait I minded in the least. Plus, as long as you refrained from mentioning either his weight or Jean Grey, he was a pretty agreeable guy. None of this compelled me to make conversation, however, and it was only by the sound of a chair nearly being flattened that I knew he'd even sat down.

A little while of awkward silence, then, "I was eating with Pietro before."

Several insults I could direct at the speedster flashed through my mind; I was toying with _my sympathies _or _sorry to hear that _when I realized Blob had continued without waiting for a response.

"I would have stayed, but then I saw the X-Men, and..."

Not sure exactly what he wanted me to say, I refrained from comment.

"...Well, Jean Grey was there, you know, the one with the long red hair?"

"Yeah, I know,"I snapped, temper flaring slightly at the thought of the girl who'd won Kitty over with her stupid psychic powers. _Trust an X-Man to meddle in other people's lives like they know so much better. _"What about her?"

"A-about her? Nothin'!" Realizing the blatancy of this lie, he continued more quietly, "Well, when I first came here – she sort of, uh, helped me find my way around. Real friendly, and stuff. Yeah. And anyway, Pietro saw me looking at her, a little, and started laughing, and so I came here." He looked at me somewhat expectantly.

Growing increasingly wary of where this conversation was heading, I ventured forward testily. "So ... what do you want me to do about it?"

Blob flushed and lowered his voice even further. "Nothin', really. I just thought you might ... understand, y'know? Since we're kind of the same, in that way, having someone on the other side that you, sorta, well, uh..."

If he managed to stumble onto the right word, I didn't hear it. It was like someone had thrown a white sheet over my head, fogging out everything but one name. And despite the fact that that nothing but that name had occupied my thoughts for over two weeks, tantalizing me in a whispered mantra, its sudden inclusion in this conversation was jarring. _How did he find out? _My feelings for Kitty belonged in the hidden caverns of my mind, concealed where none of the others could find her – not tossed about in public, and by Blobof all people. This was where I drew the line.

"That's not your problem," I growled, abruptly realizing I had jumped to my feet, "and we're _not _the same. Not even close."

Blob looked taken aback. "Hey, calm down – I was only trying to-"

"Whatever you're trying to do, just stop it. You don't understand anything." The foreshadowing of an earthquake was sending my tightly clenched fists into spasms. Skin prickling beneath the curious stares of onlookers, I felt my rage boil into indignation, and beneath it, embarrassment. This was spinning way out of control. _Stupid gawking idiots. Why can't anyone mind their own business? _

Sensing that he'd gotten the message, I turned away from my crestfallen teammate and headed for the exit. A shudder wracked the tiled floor in my wake, causing whispers to cloud the air like dust.

"What was that?"

"Like, a tremor, or something?"

"Hey, I know!" called the loudest voice, "maybe fatso over there let one rip! That'd bring down a building!"

Laughter, then pounding footfalls, followed me towards the deserted corridor.

"I'm coming with you," muttered Blob, scarlet face staring firmly at the ground.

"As long as you don't mention _her _again," I hissed threateningly, before raising my voice: "Then let's get the heck out of here."

The solitude of the hallways did nothing to calm me down. Rather, I was too distracted by my tangled emotions – anger at Blob for bringing up Kitty where anyone could hear, panic over who else might know my secret, disgust of dimwitted teenagers with their immature comments and endless staring – to notice who we were headed towards until it was too late. But there was no mistaking those infuriating shades, or that curtain of flame-red hair. I stole a sideways glance at Blob, but he didn't seem to be focused on Jean Grey, eyes directed hatefully at Scott Summers instead.

So we had a common enemy, huh? Judging by the amount of time Summers and Grey always spent together, it wasn't too difficult to figure out why. I guess that made two of us who wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. I could only hope the inevitable confrontation would be short; my preoccupation left me with little patience for anyone, least of all Cyclops.

Catching only snatches of their urgent conversation – they seemed to be looking for someone, not that I cared – I prepared to stalk by with the glare required for all our interactions.

"Or ..." Summers spoke up abruptly, voice hardening in suspicion as he noticed me. "...Somebody did something to him."

_What the heck? I can't even walk by without getting the blame for your stupid problems? _A wave of fury rose up at his insinuation, but I wasn't going to let anyone get the better of me, not when I was this close to exploding already. With an effort, I forced my voice into an indifferent sneer.

"What are you looking at, Summers?"

"Where's Kurt?" Scott demanded furiously.

_Kurt? I can't even remember which one that is! _My mind scrambled to recall the faces of the X-Men, but no stroke of recognition hit me. Was he the irritating skater kid Pietro was always complaining about? No; that was Ethan or something. _He's got to be the guy with the funny accent, then._

"Yeah, like we'd tell you," Blob responded, obviously playing guilty. Maintaining my outward smirk, I cursed him beneath the facade. Any other day I'd be more than happy to bait Summers, but I had too much on my mind to stick around trying to get a reaction out of him.

Unfortunately, it had worked. I had about a heartbeat to realize Scott was lunging for me before my back slammed into the rock-hard door of a locker. Stunned by the impact, I blinked away the surge of pain to find the X-Man's enraged face an inch from mine, hands seizing my wrists.

"I said, _where is he_?"

"Get off of me!"

"What have you done with Kurt?"

What little restraint I'd been able to summon crumbled beneath the deluge of fury that met his words. The unfairness of the situation set my rage to a boil. It was always the same – that first night back at my old school, my attempts to meet Kitty in the cafeteria, not to mention countless times in my childhood. _Why listen to Lance Alvers' side of the story? He doesn't deserve a chance to explain himself! What does it matter that he doesn't even know 'Kurt'? Oh no, he's a hood with ripped jeans, no parents and a mutation to boot; of course he's the bad guy here!_ Locked in a death glare with that accusing red mask, I was overwhelmed by a hatred I had never felt with such intensity before.

Wrestling with the impossibility of conveying this fury through mere words, I suddenly felt Scott's weight leave me. Blob had lifted him off the ground by the neck of his sweater, dangling him several feet off the floor.

"Put him down!" shrieked Jean.

Thankful for my teammate's interference – though making a mental note never to admit it – I sprang to my feet. Facing the X-girl squarely, I released a surge of pent-up rage with a clatter of locker doors. "Back off, Red, or I'll rock you!"

By this point the hallway was swarming with the classmates I'd sought desperately to avoid. Clamours for a fight rang through the air, heightening my tension. The injustice of Scott's baseless condemnation roared through my mind, drowning whatever it was that had previously urged me to avoid conflict. I'd been minding my own business; _he'd _made something out of it, and now that I'd been insulted, I'd die before I let Summers have the last laugh.

"_What _is going on here?"

_Oh, great. _The very picture of authority in her crisp dress suit and dark-rimmed spectacles, 'Principal Darkholme' strode forward between the receding lines of students.

"We weren't doing nothin'," Blob claimed, looking far from the picture of innocence with Scott still hoisted above his head.

"Yeah, Summers here just went ballistic on us for no reason!" I added, unwilling to accept punishment without at least trying to shift the blame.

Scott staggered to his feet with fists clenched. "Oh, I've got a reason."

"Scott-" Jean started warningly.

"Quiet," Mystique cut her off. "You two-" she gestured at the X-Men, "-in my office. Now."

Relieved that we wouldn't have to face the consequences of this yet – though if Mystique's fleeting glare was anything to go by, we'd have quite a bit of explaining to do later – I flashed the 'L' hand gesture at Cyclops' retreating back. It would take more than Mystique's assurance that we'd pay for this to ruin the sight of Charles Xavier's golden boy striding grudgingly away at the whim of our leader.

~~0~~

"So tell me," Mystique sighed, massaging her forehead in exasperation as Blob and I entered her strangely bare office, "What exactly did you hope to accomplish by picking a fight with the X-Men when I'd _specifically _told you to wait?"

"I told you already," I seethed, sensing the excuse I'd repeated for the past ten minutes was wearing thin, "Summers provoked me."

"And you thought that was reason enough to defy orders?" she groaned disbelievingly. "To think I actually believed you to be capable of following simple instructions."

"Well, whatever happened to 'give in to your anger' and all that crap?" I countered.

Mystique's face was like that of a teacher whose twelfth-grade class is unable to perform simple addition. "While I do encourage you to embrace raw emotions, I don't expect it to be at the loss of obedience – or common sense – my dear deluded apprentice."

A prickling rush of anger crept through my veins at being treated like an infant. She was a mutant, too; she had to understand how it felt to come under the finger of blame one time too many. "I thought this was supposed to be about standing up for ourselves. You're telling me we're supposed to _like _hiding our powers? Because I'm getting _sick _of it. Every time someone stares at me for a tremor I let slip, I swear, I just want to shake things up and wipe that stupid look off their face. Then we'd see who's laughing." I fixed her with a stone-cold glare. "Or do you think we should let people like the X-Men walk all over us because they obviously know so much more about living with mutations than we do?"

The fact that Mystique didn't explode over my defiance let me know I'd said something right for once. Nevertheless, if she was impressed, it didn't show as she stepped quietly close to the door, ensured no one was listening in the outside hallway, then let her voice drop to a whisper.

"You are correct in that your sentiments reflect the ultimate aim of our mission," she spoke carefully, "But what you have to understand is that the path to that goal must be undertaken in secrecy. The influence of Charles Xavier has a farther reach than either of you know. He is well aware that we are recruiting, and it is not unreasonable to assume he knows the identity of our chief associate." Her voice faltered briefly at the mention of this mysterious figure. "What we can hide from him, however, is our plan of action. He must not know when, or if, we will strike. An enemy that lies low poses a much higher threat than one whose movements are easy to predict. Goodness knows the lot of you have blown our cover enough, starting brawls at the drop of a hat. Surely it isn't beyond your mental capacity to realize that quarrelling with the X-Men on a daily basis is contrary to this method?"

I nodded, getting the sense of where she was coming from but reluctant to let go of the day's aggravations. "But when _do _we get to fight them? I mean, what's the point of all this training otherwise?"

"We do want to establish a threat," Mystique agreed, "but only when the opportunity arises. When they are unprepared; when they are weakened in some way."

Before she could explain any further, the door flew upon and a slightly battered Toad tumbled inside. The principal sprang at him immediately, howling with fury for interrupting her at such an inconvenient time, but he seemed determined to make his voice heard.

"The X-Men, they've gone crazy, yo!" he exclaimed. "They attacked me outta nowhere! Look at what they did to my uniform!" As if this was the biggest grievance he'd ever suffered, he pointed to a clean hole running through the ridiculous shell-like structure on his back. I hadn't even realized he was wearing the thing; he must have changed sometime during lunch.

Mystique raised her eyebrows critically. "This is the second time today that the X-Men have started an 'unprecedented' fight with you. I highly doubt you are quite as innocent as you are making yourselves out to be. Would you care to explain exactly what happened?"

"I wasn't doing nothing!" Toad insisted. "Just hanging out by the parking lot, eating a few flies-"

"By the parking lot?" Mystique cut in sharply. "I hope you weren't anywhere near my new car."

"Your new car? No, not at all, heh!" Toad laughed with the kind of poorly hidden guilt that made me doubt the car was still in one piece. "Anyways, there I was, and Summers just starts chasing me like a maniac! I tried to get away, but they cornered me up a tree and shot me down. And _then, _would you believe it, that freaky Spyke kid pinned me to the trunk!" He gestured again at the hole in his costume as if this wasn't clear enough already. "All for no good reason!"

"Would 'no good reason,' have anything to do with that Kurt kid disappearing?" I deadpanned, still bristling slightly over Scott's unfounded hostility.

The change in Mystique was so sudden as to be startling – her spine stiffened, rigidity casting its claw over her muscles, face sharpening into an expression reminiscent of a cat with a mouse at its mercy.

"One of the X-Men is missing?" Her lips twisted into an unnerving smile. "This could prove to be the opportunity we were looking for. It was Kurt Wagner, you say? Their teleporter?"

"Yeah, that's the one," confirmed Toad. "Summers jumped all over me about it, but I never did anything to him! And you know who did? Rogue!"

Mystique blinked in surprise, again making me wonder what her connection to the aloof girl was. It had to be more than just a mentor-student relationship; after all, we didn't merit such attention in her eyes.

"Rogue attacked Kurt Wagner?" she repeated, more to herself than any of us. "I'll have to remind her ... are you sure of this?"

"That's what she told them."

"And did she say what she'd done to him?"

"Zapped him with some vape ray thing. She said she'd take them to him if they let me go."

"Hmm." Whatever emotions were going through Mystique's head, she let them slide beneath their usual mask as she straightened purposefully. "This means our chance may have passed. Unless you can catch them before they find Wagner, the playing field will be level again and the attack will be fruitless. Did Rogue give any indication as to where he was?"

"Jean said he was out of her range," Blob burst out unexpectedly. "Jean Grey, y'know, the telepath?" His confidence shrivelled under our joint attentions. "I just thought, if she couldn't find him, he can't be anywhere close, so he won't be able to come and help them ..."

"Very ... perceptive of you," Mystique responded after an obvious pause, during which I couldn't tell whether she was ruminating over Blob's unforeseen intelligence or how quick he had been to mention the fiery-haired X-Girl. Quickly recovering her composure, she pressed on purposefully. "If you were to attack now, you would need a motive. It would be far too suspicious if we struck the first blow without reason. Incriminating ourselves in such a way would only put Xavier on his guard. He would immediately assume you had come to blows over our opposing viewpoints, suggesting the instigation of war long before our side is ready."

"Summers accused me of doing something to Kurt," I pointed out. "Without any proof. I just walked by and he spazzed out at me. We could attack them over that."

"No, no..." Mystique was pacing the room with long, resolute strides, one hand gripping her chin thoughtfully. "It's still too confrontational. We are starting a fight so that you may gain a sense of the enemy's battle techniques; their strengths; their weaknesses. We are not doing this to announce that we are a threat. The excuse must be simple, almost juvenile ... something that can be overlooked as a typical schoolyard brawl."

"Well, there's that vape ray they took off me," Toad put in arbitrarily.

Not for the first time today, every head swivelled towards one of my least intelligent teammates.

"'Vape ray?'" Mystique's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "The one Rogue used on Wagner?"

"Yeah, I was messing around with it, but the X-losers swiped it off me." Apparently Mystique knew a bit more about this than I did, because Toad's already pallid complexion whitened even further beneath her piercing glare. Gulping nervously, he stumbled to his own defence: "It's nothing really, just something I found lying around – some kid's toy – no wonder the X-losers wanted it; I mean, it was a piece of junk..."

"Yes, I'm sure that a _piece of junk _could be responsible for the disappearance of one of the X-Men," the blue lady retorted venomously. Her eyes swept the empty office once more, as if drinking in its starkness, then returned to the lot of us. "This is your first mission as a team. Notify Quicksilver and Rogue. Catch the X-Men unawares and on their own – it is too soon for there to be witnesses. Use the recovery of this 'vape ray' as your motive, but remember, reclaiming it is not the objective. Your aim is to test and develop your powers in a combat situation against fellow mutants. It is not necessary to inflict lasting damage upon the enemy at this stage. And, Mr. Tolansky-" Toad froze in the doorway and winced, "-I want to see you in my office the instant this is over. Understood?"

~~0~~

Toad filled us in on the recent events as we conducted a hasty search of the school for our two absent teammates. If his ramblings were to be believed, he had spent his lunch hour experimenting with a teleporter gun that Rogue had used to zap Kurt Wagner to who knew where and which was now in the possession of the X-Men. While I normally wouldn't have given him much credibility, his version of things did explain the disappearance of Mystique's office furniture and new car – I guessed that was what she got for screaming at him one time too many. Not that any of it mattered much. The anticipation of finally getting to go head-to-head with Scott Summers swept everything else from my mind.

Despite the fact that Blob and Toad had seen them just over an hour ago, Pietro and Rogue were nowhere to be found. We didn't exactly scour every nook and cranny for them, to be honest – when a quick search through the corridors, cafeteria and grounds revealed no sign of our absent teammates, I was more than happy to abandon the hunt. It wasn't my problem if they thought our first mission was beneath their attentions.

As for finding the X-Men, it wasn't what I'd call a challenge. If the muffled shouting and random flashes emanating from the school's sealed-off basement weren't enough of a tip-off, the fact that the door had been blown off its hinges was.

"There they are," said Toad malignantly as we entered the dank room where the X-Men, for whatever reason, were assembled around a radiant floating sphere, "and they've still got that vape ray I was telling you about."

I glimpsed the object he was referring to – apparently a strange metal device lying on a table – and focused my attentions on it before catching sight of something far more interesting. Rogue stood uncertainly to the side of the group, cloaked in shadow with her face swathed in the brilliant light. And close beside her, facing away from me yet instantly recognizable nonetheless, was –

_No, no, no, you idiot, don't do this. It's over. Over and done with. She's one of them now. She doesn't want anything to do with you. _

Then why were my hands trembling more violently than they had for any earthquake?

Desperately trying to focus on anything but the girl now tilting her head ever-so-slightly in my direction, I forced my thoughts back to the present moment. Latching with effort onto a vastly inferior subject, I forced out whatever meaningless words might keep me grounded in the battle.

"Rogue, Mystique sent us to find you. So are you with us or them?"

"Mystique? You working for her?" There it was again – the self-righteous scowl of Scott Summers. It didn't matter that his question was directed at Rogue. Every word he spoke was the same; perpetually laced with judgment and indignation and the underlying implication that no one like me would ever be good enough for anyone like _her. _

Something inside me clenched like a fist. _Don't think about it, don't think about it, I can't not think about it..._

"Hey, Summers," came Rogue's distant retort, "you've got your friends; I've got mine. But this ain't my fight. I'm out of here."

Had I not been so engrossed in what I was supposed to be suppressing, I might have been surprised to see Mystique's favoured recruit turn and stride for the exit. As it was, Kitty's gaze was searing the back of my head, burning away the weeks that had stretched between our first meeting and this day so that it could have been that afternoon again, and we were going to run off together...

_And then _they_ had to ruin everything._

"Okay, fork it over, losers..." Blob's voice rumbled from somewhere beyond my steaming haze of emotion.

Mystique's voice, cold and unchallengeable, piercing me all the way from last weekend.

"_Call to mind the people you hate most in the world. Replace my face with theirs."_

_Not too difficult now, is it? _

"...Or this place is gonna rock!"

The rage I had felt in my fight against Mystique was a mere breeze; this was a hurricane. The first tremor ripped through my veins and poured into the room, releasing with it every emotion that had stewed and festered for weeks. This sensation was like nothing I had ever felt before: wild, unconquerable, and oh, so _freeing. _

Instants, seconds, minutes all flew together in a senseless rush. Furniture toppled, chunks of brick rained from the ceiling, wide black cracks ruptured the walls like bolts of lightning. I couldn't tell whether or not we were gaining the upper hand over the X-Men or not, but Mystique's instructions had long since fled my mind. All thought was consumed by this whirlwind.

One moment, Kitty was in front of me; the next, the floor buckled in a tsunami of old tiles as I shouted something incomprehensible even to my own ears. As I had hoped, she stumbled on the uneven ground and rolled off to one side of the room, phasing through a wall and out of the way.

_This doesn't involve you, _I wanted to scream at her. _It's me against the X-Men. You're not a part of that equation!_

To my dismay, she sailed back into the room with infuriatingly graceful ease. A series of goosebumps shot over my skin as the unbidden memory of her phasing through a different wall flashed through my mind. Teeth clenched in frustration, I hardly heard the words she screamed as a retort. _Don't you realize I don't want to fight you? Just get out of the way!_

Kitty didn't make this easy, but with a few more tremors I was able to put enough distance between us so that when she found her footing once more, the Spyke kid was occupying my attack. From there, the battle degenerated back into chaos. The taste of power roaring through my body as I wreaked havoc upon the earth was exhilarating. Every sense was extinguished but the floor thundering beneath my feet, the walls groaning in agony, and the wrath pounding in my brain, and I _loved _it.

The jolt back into reality was heralded by a flash of light so vibrant and a blast of movement so sudden they were indistinguishable from the rest of the battle. It was only when I collided with a colossal bulk and was forced to back up against a wall that the surge of adrenaline began to die. Slowly the world numbed, silence casting its shroud, colors fading to their original hues, until the dingy underground lab reappeared. In that moment I realized that the mass in front of Toad and I was Blob's back. Abruptly aware of how hard I was panting, I peered around him to assess the outcome of our fight.

For a reason I doubted I'd ever understand, a striking green sports car had appeared from nowhere and was now rammed against our bulky teammate, whom it seemed had shielded us from the blow. I didn't even want to wonder why what appeared to be a furry blue version of Kurt Wagner was sitting in the driver's seat beside a slightly older boy I didn't recognize. Deciding to wash my hands of the whole mess, I stepped to the side and noticed the smashed remnants of the vape ray.

_Did it really all start over that? _I wondered incredulously. Of course not; that had only been our excuse, after all. Speaking of which, if any of the X-Men still believed that this clash had been instigated by something so trivial, we might as well keep up the masquerade.

"Aw, come on, guys," I groaned with as much fake disappointment as I could muster, "This party's over."

But it wasn't. The ghost of my battle rage still lingered in my acutely aching muscles, my racing heartbeat, my trembling legs. It was a reminder I relished. For the first time since I'd thrown away my old life and followed Mystique into the unknown, I truly felt like I belonged in my new role. Me versus them, Avalanche against Cyclops, the rebellious street kid versus the uptight daddy's boy – it felt so fitting. Like it was always meant to be.

After all, they were the bad guys. We were the good guys. Why shouldn't it be?

~~0~~

**If you have any comments about the story, don't hesitate to leave them in a review! I'm always willing to answer questions as well :)**


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